


Healing

by Rynbie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abuse, Eventual Smut, Fix-It, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon Fix-It, Rating will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynbie/pseuds/Rynbie
Summary: Eddie survived the encounter with Pennywise, but between his injury and finally confronting his history of abuse, he has such a long road ahead.This fic is the combined and correct version of my older fics Don't Go and Healing.  They will be deleted, this one will be continued.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 13
Kudos: 27





	1. Don't Go

**Author's Note:**

> I had previously started two fics, Don't Go and Healing. This is the combined version of them, the version I'm finally happy with. Enjoy!

Richie wouldn’t leave Eddie. He just wouldn’t. The others kept talking over each other, telling him to leave the body. The body, that’s what they were calling him. But Richie wouldn’t go. Even if Eddie was gone, he wouldn’t leave him alone in the dark. Richie just hovered over him protectively, yelling at them, wildness and rage in his voice.

“I swear to god, if you leave him, I’m dying down here with him!”

So they gave up. They took turns carrying him through the tunnels. It was awkward and difficult, especially heaving him up the well, but they managed. Richie took the rope from around his waist and cradled him against his chest as they finally fled the Niebolt house.

They ran to the hospital in relative silence, save for a few choked sobs here and there. They all thought they were merely humoring Richie, delaying his realization of the inevitable. That Eddie was dead, and they would never get him back.

When they rushed through the emergency room doors, there was a flurry of activity as doctors and EMTs fell in around them. Richie was reluctant to let him go, but he laid Eddie gingerly on a stretcher and stumbled back as someone pushed him out of the way. He stretched and craned his head, trying to see what they were doing.

“Is he alive?” He muttered, then yelled. “ _Is he alive?!_ ”

He heard an EMT call out, “We have a pulse!” and Richie crumbled, collapsing to the cold, hard tile floor as they wheeled the love of his life away. He laid his head in his hands, sobbing, as the others gathered around to hold him.

“I’m so sorry,” Bev whispered.

Mike sounded horrified. “We almost left him down there…”

Hours later, feeling like days later, they sat in the waiting room seats, hungry for any news of their friend. Occasionally someone would offer them an update, but it was never anything of consequence. This minute, he was strong. The next, it wasn’t looking good. He was in surgery for so fucking long. None of them even considered leaving, as they took turns holding Richie’s hand.

When the doctor returned the final time, Bev was kneeling before Richie and stroking his cheek gently while whispering soft words of encouragement. When she saw the doctor she stood and backed away, arms crossed. Richie slowly struggled to his feet, weak from the lack of sleep and food.

His eyes were pleading as he addressed the doctor. “I-is he…?”

The doctor swallowed and folder her hands. “He’s stable right now,” she said slowly. “But I don’t want to get your hopes up much right now. He’s still very, very weak. Things can still go very badly at this point.”

Bill stepped forwards, one hand on Richie’s slumped shoulder. “Can we see him?”

“I think it’s best if we limit to one visitor at a time right now,” she answered gently. “And I’d prefer only family at this time. Does he have parents in the area, a wife?” She looked at Bev hopefully.

Richie choked a sob. Before he had time to absorb the cruel reality that he wouldn’t even be able to see Eddie, Ben had stepped forwards and spoken up. “This is his fiance, Richard Tozier.”

Richie’s eyes shot to Ben’s in surprise at the lie, and Ben gave him a smile that said _you’re welcome_.

The doctor smiled and nodded, motioning to Richie. “Alright, you can come on back. Follow me.”

It was startling at the least, horrifying at the most, to see Eddie hooked up to a million beeping machines with a tube down his throat. Richie gasped softly and looked to the doctor for answers he didn’t even really have the questions to.

“Like I said,” she began softly. “He’s very weak. We’re doing everything we can to keep him alive and comfortable, but… I’m not going to lie to you. He has a very hard road ahead. There’s still a strong possibility he won’t make it, and that he’ll be lying here in pain until he passes. Sometimes…” she seemed to hesitate. “Sometimes the best thing we can do for those we love is to give them permission to let go.”

Richie looked back at Eddie, the doctor’s words bleeding together and falling through his mind like quicksand. “Can he hear me?”

She merely nodded. “I believe so, but he won’t be able to respond at all. I’m going to give you some privacy.”

As she left, Richie pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat down, sighing heavily. “Hey Eds,” he whispered, eyes trying to take in all the chaos before him. He gently pushed some wires and tubes aside so he could take Eddie’s hand in his own. Richie’s voice was hoarse and aching. “They said… that you’re gonna be in a lot of pain,” he muttered. He wiped at his tears with his free hand. “She thinks I should… should tell you goodbye. That it would be kinder to let you go, I guess.” He shook his head and then leaned forwards, laying it on Eddie’s shoulder. “But here’s the thing, Eddie. I’m a selfish piece of shit, okay? I’m a terrible person who need you to live, no matter what it takes. So fucking… fight for me. Please.” He squoze his hand, tears falling onto Eddie’s hospital gown. The words he swore he’d never say fell from his lips so easily. “I love you, Eddie. Not like… Jesus fuck. I’m in love with you. I always have been. So I’m begging- no, I’m telling you.” He raised his head to look at Eddie’s eyelids, wishing he could see the bright eyes behind them. “Don’t you dare fucking leave me.”


	2. Memories

Sonia Kaspbrak never hit Eddie.

She pointed that out to him often.

“Some poor children,” she’d say, sighing as she sat back in her chair, “get beaten every day. Aren’t you so lucky to have a momma who loves you so much, Eddie-bear?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Sonia was certainly an overbearing, overprotective mother. But that was just a manifestation of her love for him, right? She only wanted to protect him. He was so small, and so sickly. If she didn’t look out for him, who would? Everything she did in life was to keep him healthy and safe. And when he thought about it, he guessed he was pretty lucky to have her.

Of course, she wasn’t perfect, but no one was. She would, on occasion, become convinced that the Losers were the very worst thing in the world for his health. She would forbid him from going anywhere near them ever again. Eddie would try to argue, and Sonia would begin crying. She’d blubber about how heartbroken she was by his rebellion, and what has she done to deserve such an ungrateful child? 

Eddie would give up. He’d climb the stairs to his room and lay down in his bed, and not move for days. He didn’t cry, he just lay there, blinking at the wall. Empty and alone.

He never truly noticed, not consciously anyway, how Sonia seemed to revel in this condition/ During these times, she would tend to him so lovingly. Bring his food in bed, comic books, toys, and pills, endless pills. She told the family and the church that he had the flu again, or that one of his plethora of illnesses was flaring up. They would provide comfort and, sometimes, monetary support. They all pitied poor, gentle, selfless Sonia, who spent her years looking after such a sickly child. None of them came upstairs to visit Eddie. No one noticed that it was his heart, not his body, which was so broken.

Eventually Sonia would tire of him laying there, so emotionless, not even saying thank you anymore. It was only then when she would cave. She would come to her son and tell him softly that he could see his friends again, provided he was careful and it was on her timeline. This was when Eddie would finally cry. He’d hold his mother and sob into her nightgown, thanking her for her generosity.

For awhile, things would go back to normal. Certainly there were still pills, doctor visits, coddling. But he had his friends. He could ride bikes and visit the quarry and shoot playful insults at Richie. Nothing could break him, not when the Losers were by his side.

He could always tell when it was going to start again. Like an itch he couldn’t scratch, it would begin with something in her tone. Something curt and sharp that made him flinch when it seemed that every word he said was the wrong one. Then some foolish, well-meaning doctor would inform Sonia that there was nothing wrong with her son, that he was a strong, healthy young man. She’d lose her temper right there in the exam room - screaming, crying, demanding they stop patronizing her and find a treatment for her poor, weak, innocent child.

Then Eddie would come home from a day with his friends, smiling and dirty. His knee scraped up from a tumble he took off his bike when Stan crashed into him. He’d try to hide the injury at first, but of course there was never any chance of that. As she fussed over him, blubbering and crying and spitting rage, he’d swear it was nothing. It didn’t even hurt that bad. Sonia would scream again. Cry again, and tell him he was never again to see those awful children who so flippantly risked his fragile health.

And he’d climb the stairs. And he’d lay in bed. And Sonia would request a prayer cloth for him at Sunday’s service.

No, Sonia never hit Eddie.

Not once.

Myra couldn’t boast the same.

The first time had only been a few months into their marriage. Eddie had a late night at the office. He was exhausted, stressed over a demanding new client. He chewed his lip the whole way home, aware that Myra would be upset.

She was sitting on the couch when he walked in. The TV was off, and the apartment was deadly silent. There was something in her voice when she spoke, something curt and sharp that made him flinch. She quietly demanded to know the name of the whore he was fucking around with. Eddie laughed nervously and insisted there was no one else in his life but her. She had turned and hurled her phone at him without warning, barely leaving him time to duck before it shattered on the wall behind him.

“You think this is funny?” she asked, tears of rage in her eyes as she moved towards him. “Does it amuse you to, to hurt me like this? Use me like this? Bastard!”

She’d brought her hand down, full force, against his cheek. Eddie had stumbled back with a surprised whimper, too stunned to really react. Myra had put both hands over her mouth and immediately started sobbing. She apologized over and over. She couldn’t help it, she said. She just loved him so much, she said. Eddie had held her and comforted her. It was okay. It was an accident. It would never happen again.

It happened again, again, again. Eddie became good at explaining bruises. He was a joke at the office now for how often he seemed to stumble down a flight of stairs or cut his face shaving or his hands cooking. 

Clumsy Eddie, always getting himself hurt.


	3. Myra

“He’s breathing on his own now, thank god,” Richie was saying, voice low. “So they’ve removed the tube, but he’s still struggling in a lot of other ways.” The Losers were gathered around, listening intently. Bev bit at her fingernails. A doctor stood nearby, different from the first, nodding and occasionally weighing in with more information.

“I’m truly impressed with his tenacity,” the doctor added. “We didn’t expect him to survive the night, much less to be breathing on his own this soon. I think there’s a good chance for a full recovery, as long as we can-”

The doors slammed open, bouncing off the walls as Myra Kaspbrak blew in. None of them had met her in person, but her pictures were online and they recognized her face. The mood fell tangibly. They had all been dreading her arrival.

Myra walked past them and straight to the receptionist. “Edward Kaspbrak!” She shouted at the poor young woman. “I need to see him this instant!”

The doctor looked puzzled, but broke away from the group to approach her. “Ma’am? I’m Dr. Thomas, I’m the lead on Mr. Kaspbrak’s team. May I ask your relationship to the patient?”

She whirled, looking him up and down as if in disapproval. “I’m his wife. Can you take me to him?”

Dr. Thomas screwed his eyebrows together in confusion, looking back at the Losers, who avoided his eyes. “I was led to believe he had a fiance…? Are you two separated?”

“Fiance?” She hissed. Her jaw tightened as she followed his glance to the Losers. She nearly shoved the doctor aside as she approached them. “You’re them, aren’t you? You’re the reason my Eddie came back to this, this… cesspit. You’re the reason he’s hurt.”

Bill stepped forwards, putting a trembling Richie behind him. “We’re Eddie’s friends, Mrs. Kaspbrak. We-”

“Friends?” She spit the word as if it tasted disgusting in her mouth. “As of a week ago, I’d never heard any of your names. I don’t know who the _hell_ you people are.”

Richie shrank at the words, and Ben put a protective arm around his shoulders as he pulled him to the back of the group.

The doctor approached her again, his voice gentle. “Ma’am, if you could calm down. Do you have any proof of your claim that the patient is your husband?”

She looked startled at his question, but began fishing around in her huge purse. “Um, yes, yes, I have our marriage certificate. I brought it just in case.” She pulled it loose and handed it over.

Dr. Thomas looked over the page and turned it in his hands, then eyes the Losers suspiciously. “This seems to be legitimate.”

Bev stepped up now, smiling politely at Myra. “Please. We love Eddie just as much as you do. We just want to know he’d going to be okay, we want to help however we can.”

Myra’s eyes narrowed as she moved closer, staring down Bev. “You want to help? Tell me how he got hurt.”

Bev opened and then closed her mouth, looking back at her friends for help. Bill just shook his head. No one answered.

Myra sighed angrily and jabbed a finger in Bev’s face. “You people, just… just stay the hell away from _my_ husband.”

…

Myra was quick to speak to hospital security and request that the Losers not be permitted to come anywhere near Eddie. And she was his wife, why wouldn’t they obey her requests?

None of the Losers could bear to leave town. They couldn’t, not with Eddie like this. For weeks they put aside their lives and careers, risked everything they’d each built for themselves, just to be nearby. Just in case. They held each other, and they cried, and they drank too much, waiting for some kind of news.

Richie cried every night. Every damn night. He called the hospital daily, but they couldn’t give him any more information than whether Eddie was alive or dead. Richie didn’t even know if he was awake. What if he was? What if he just didn’t want to see him? _Then at least he’s okay,_ he told himself. _I don’t care, as long as he lives._

…

Myra sat in an uncomfortable chair in the corner of Eddie’s bleak little hospital room, thumbing through a months old magazine full of gossip long debunked. She just happened to be looked up when it happened. His hand moved. Just a little, but she saw it.

She gasped and pulled the chair to the bedside as quickly as she could, grasping at his hand. “Ed? Darling?”

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice, but only just barely. He looked at her through his lashed, visibly confused and hurting. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but only produced a small, dry croak.

“What is it, honey?” She asked frantically. “Are you hurting? Do you need medicine?”

Eddie tried again, forced the word to take form. The smallest, dryest voice uttered, “Where…?”

Tears of relief lept to Myra’s eyes. “You’re in the hospital. In Maine. We’re going to get you transferred home now that you’re awake. Don’t worry. You’re going to be-”

But Eddie was shaking his head weakly, frustration clear on his face. He coughed painfully, then groaned. “Where…?” he asked again.

“Where what, sweetie?” Myra asked, confused and afraid. “What is it?”

Eddie seemed to gather all his strength now, to make the next words come out right, his eyes pleading with her to hear him. “ _Where’s Richie_?”


	4. Waiting

Richie had been more than a little surprised to receive a call from the hospital. But there it was, and the nice nurse on the other end told him that Eddie was awake and asking for him. He felt his heart fly at those words, and promised to be there soon.

Afraid to drive himself in this state, he banged on Ben and Bev’s door until they awoke, groggy, to ask him what had happened. But the moment they saw his face, they didn’t have to ask. Bev gasped happily and threw her arms around him, and Ben beamed.

They sped the whole way to the hospital. Richie didn’t say a word, sitting in the backseat with his hands wedged between his knees like an excited child going to a birthday party. Bev was biting her nails in the front seat, worrying how Myra would figure into all of this.

When Richie arrived at Eddie’s room, Myra just glared at him as she pushed past, not offering him a single word. Richie couldn’t find the energy to care. He hurried over to the chair next to Eddie’s bed and sat down on the very edge, leaning in over him. “Hey Eddie Spaghetti,” he murmured softly.

Eddie blinked weakly and gave him a tired smile. “Richie,” he answered, and sounded relieved. He reached blindly, and Richie took his hand. Eddie gave it a tight squeeze and seemed to relax into the touch. His voice was hoarse and weak, barely decipherable. “How’d I get out?”

“Oh, you know,” Richie sniffled. “We dragged you by your foot. I think we hit your head a couple of times on the way out, so-”

Eddie tried to laugh, but it devolved into a weak coughing fit. Finally he caught his breath and smiled again. “You carried me,” he said, as firmly as he could. “You saved me.”

Richie looked down at the floor, then back into Eddie’s eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes he’d missed so badly. “Of fucking course I did,” he said softly. “I’m never gonna leave you.”

…

The weeks passed slowly. Everyone stayed in Derry. They took turns staying by his bedside, which Myra absolutely hated. As soon as more than one visitor was allowed, Myra made sure she was always in the room.

Eddie was beginning to heal, but it was going to be awhile. It was explained to them that if he were to walk again, it would take extensive physical therapy and several surgeries. Eddie was stubborn and insisted they do it. He was gonna get through this, whatever it took.

Beverly and Ben were sitting with Eddie today, while Richie was asleep in the waiting room. Eddie was sitting up at an angle, watching TV. Myra was by Eddie’s side as always, blocking the others from access. Eddie never spoke much when Myra was in the room. Bev stretched out on the uncomfortable couch, her feet in Ben’s lap as she scrolled through facebook on her phone.

Myra finally gave up and admitted she was hungry, and was going out for food. She didn’t ask if anyone else wanted anything, and they weren’t surprised. The second she was gone, Ben patted Bev’s feet and moved to the chair by the bed.

“Hey bud,” he said with a smile.

Eddie looked over and him and rolled his eyes. “I’m hurt, I’m not a child. You can fucking talk to me like normal.” He flipped through the channels idly. “Is Richie still sleeping?”

Ben nodded, patting his arm. “Yeah, but I can go get him if you-”

Eddie shook his head, biting his lip. “No. Nah there’s something I wanna talk to him about, but it can wait.”

Myra rushed back in, having forgotten her purse, and Eddie visibly shrank. No one said a word as she collected her bag and kissed all over Eddie’s face before disappearing once more.

Eddie sighed in relief when she was gone.

There was so much about the exchanged between them that made Ben uncomfortable, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Beverly could. She knew what every flinch and every nervous smile meant. She didn’t look up from her phone as she muttered, “I hate that cunt.”

“Bev!” Ben exclaimed, turned to look at her in shock.

Eddie looked deeply uncomfortable, and shifted a little, groaning in pain as he did. “She’s not that bad,” he muttered. “She’d got issues. She was bullied her whole life you know, she… I’m all she has.”

“You don’t have to be,” Beverly said simply. “There’s nothing saying you have to be with her.”

Eddie was still trying to steer away from this conversation, and now he laughed awkwardly. “Please, she’d stayed by my side through everything. And besides that, I can’t fucking walk and I’ve got years of recovery ahead of me. Who else is gonna want these damaged goods?”

“Richie,” Ben and Bev said simultaneously.

Eddie’s eyes went wide at how bluntly they had put that, but then he noticed their eyes on the door. Richie stood there, and their words had been a greeting, not an answer.

Richie looked around, sensing the tenseness of the room. “Hey, uh, what’s going on in here? I saw Myra leave and I figured I could fill in for a bit.”

Ben rose from the chair to offer it to Richie, who took it gladly. Ben went back to sit with Bev, who was still visibly upset.

Richie took Eddie’s hand and smiled softly. “How you feeling?”

“Oh, you know,” Eddie shrugged. “Like I’ve got a fucking hole in my chest.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me function and write more~! Let me know what you think.


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